Last week I was rear ended during my commute to work and I have to say the hassle of dealing with the aftermath of an accident is ALMOST made up for by the wonder of the experience. Allow me to set the scene...
It is 8:00 am and I'm rocking out in my car driving to work, thinking about stopping at Dunkin Donuts for a cup of tea to perk me up for the day ahead. I turn off my lovely back country road onto a "main" highway and travel about 500 feet before I encounter a red light. I stop my car behind a line of 5 or 6 other cars who are also stopped thanks to the RED traffic light. I'm stopped for about a minute or so, enjoying my quiet time, singing along to the radio when I am suddenly SLAMMED from behind. My foot slips off the brake and clutch so my car stalls and starts rolling forward so I throw on the emergency brake. I then look all around to determine what.in.the.sam.hell.just.happened and I see a big ass pick up truck tucked delightfully up against the ass end of my car. I scream loudly several expletives, as I have just realized I've been rear-ended at a traffic light. FML!
I turn on the car and move out of the flow of traffic so that everyone traveling along 206 isn't late to work today, just me and the dumbass who just hit me. Once I move over to the edge of a turning lane I dial 911 to report the accident, as I know it's going to take forever and a year to get a cop out to the scene. As I'm talking to the dispatcher someone is knocking on my window. I hold up my finger in the "one minute" gesture and talk to the 911 operator, confirming my location and that no ambulance is needed. After I finish the call I get out of my car to see how much damage has been done.
I get out of my car and see that my bumper is all scratched and cracked and that there is a big nasty dent in my trunk where all the paint has been chipped off. I am angry. I turn to look at the offending vehicle, a Ford F150 with metal caging over the bumpers. There is not a scratch on the truck save for a big old ding on the bumper. At this point the driver of the vehicle totters over to me...and so begins the most bizarre car accident experience of my life.
The driver is a woman I'd guestimate to be in her 30s, she is VERY tanned to the point that she has an orangish tinge. Her hair is unnaturally blond, with dark roots, and it is teased. She is wearing giant buggish sun-glasses, black flipflops, black leggings, a black tank top, and some sort of black sweatery thing, despite the fact that it is clearly approaching 90 degrees. She also has a motley assortment of terrible tattoos showing...on her feet, on her wrists, and there is one peaking out on her neck. I immediately dub her "White Trash Barbie" (WTB) in my head.
She comes waddling over with a cigarette in her hand while snapping her gum to ask if I am okay. I say yes and inform her I've called 911 so that an accident report can be filled out. WTB then begins to explain to me that she'd like to avoid a police report because she was just arrested 2 days prior for a DUI and for domestic violence because "my boyfriend was beating on me." She then tells me all about how the ding on her bumper is from when she and her boyfriend hit each other with their trucks during said DUI and domestic violence festival. She explains that she can't really afford to get into "another one of these accidents" or she'll lose her insurance. She also tells me that she was fired from her last job because "my boyfriend was beating on me" in the parking lot of her last job and that "today is my first day at a new job, but I know I'm gonna lose it when they find out about my DUI."
In the 10 minutes it takes for the cop to show up she continues this line of discussion while I'm sure my facial expression ranged from "are you fucking kidding me" to "am I on Candid Camera" and "why do the crazies always find me." The cop shows up, looks at the cars and says "You girls don't really need to go through insurance for this and don't need an accident report, you can just work it out yourselves." I insist we need an accident report. She agrees with the cop that we can "just like work it out and I can like pay you back." I again insist that we get an accident report. The cop tries to talk to me like I'm an idiot and explain deductibles. At this point I pipe up with "I'm an attorney, you know how we need everything documented." The cop is obviously pissed and demands our license, registrations, and insurance cards and stalks off to his car to fill out the paperwork.
At this point, WTB perks up and asks me what kind of law I practice and how much I would charge to defend her on the DUI charges. Yup, she just asked the person she ass-ended to defend her for a DUI. FML. I explain that I don't do that kind of law, my practice is forensic psychology. She then asks if I can do an evaluation for her since she is court ordered to get a violence risk assessment from the LAST time she was arrested with her boyfriend. I tell her we don't do that. She asks for my business card. I tell her I don't have any with me. She then launches into a long and detailed story about her boyfriend, how he's a drunk and abusive, and that he keeps calling the cops on her and the cops tell her to breakup with him and then finishes off with "but I love him, ya know, so how could I live without him."
I'm considering walking out into traffic to get away from this insane person when the cop comes stalking back to give me back my documents. As soon as I can get away from there I do...until I realize I exchanged information with this crazy person and I pray she doesn't call me. She does. I ignored it. I'm optimistic she doesn't hit me again....but I suspect she's looking for me so she can hit me again and tell me all about her crazy.